Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours
by Nik216
Summary: March 1941 finds Forrest and Bridget Bondurant living the life they'd always deserved together. Until one day they find the one last piece that they were missing. The last story in the "Even in the Darkness I'm Not Alone" arc.


**AN: Yep. I've come to a conclusion as of late, I forgot how much I love Forrest, like literally obsessed to an unhealthy level with him, so I may have to let the muse turn and let me possibly come up with another 'Lawless' story…but first things first, I had to finally give Forrest, Bridget and their families the ending that they deserved. (And thank you to sarah7170 for the push.)**

**So this little piece takes place a few months after the Epilogue in "Even in the Darkness I'm Not Alone", and I have researched the feasibility of the plot events, and while they are probably not 100% accurate as to what would happen…this is my sandbox and we are all going to pretend that I am right! ;- ). (And something similar happened in my family a long time ago, so I at least know that this is somewhat plausible.)**

**I am very, very proud and happy and also incredibly sad to close this story arc, and I know that these characters have become special to a lot of folks and that means more to me than I can tell you. So please, **_**please**_**, give Bridget, Forrest and the gang love one more time in a read and a review!**

**Much, much love to you all!**

* * *

_March, 1941_

They went unnoticed, like so many others in those tough times.

He thought she was healthy, she was moving fine after it came for a two whole months, feeding it, tending to it, but she was so cold to the touch. No matter how many blankets he found, or how much he stoked the small fire in the hearth, it didn't help. He tried everything he could for her, but there wasn't much to offer from a bowl of hot broth thinned over and over with water and some hardtack biscuits.

He still went out every day to tend their small piece of land, turning over just enough food to sell for meager rations, taking them to town in a beat up jalopy of a car with wooden wheels that barely made the trip, fifty miles one way. All the while he kept hearing that the Great Depression was ending. Happy days were here again.

Those happy days never came for him.

He found her when he came home from town well after dark. As soon as he crossed the threshold to the small cabin he could hear it screaming for food, wailing out with such an awful pain, and when he looked at their small rope bed in the corner, he could see her thin and pale and so cold- she was gone.

He sat with her for a long time, touching her face with his rough, calloused hands, telling her that he hoped she was in a nice place, a safe place where she didn't have to hurt and be hungry anymore. And that he would miss her.

He tried to feed it from the watered down milk they had saved in the small icebox, and it got it to stop crying. But that didn't last long. It wasn't more than a few hours when it was crying again. He tried to clean it where it had soiled itself and fed it some more, but he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't care for it; he could barely care for himself.

He didn't want to leave it with the county home; he wanted it to be loved. He looked up at the woman who rested peacefully in the corner of the room; he owed it to her for it to be loved.

His mind was furiously turning and out of nowhere, like someone wanted him to remember…he recalled a day a few months ago when his heap of a car had busted part of an axle on the road leading out of town on a bend in the road. It had been pouring rain like buckets, but he'd seen the outline of a service station in the distance.

It was the Bondurant station out at Blackwater Creek. He'd heard about it in town, and when he'd been a young teenage drifter back in the late '20's he'd even stopped there to drink his fill when he'd had any money. But he hadn't been back in years.

He somehow managed to get the car down to the place, and caught sight of a tall, thin blonde boy who greeted him with a smile and asked him to come into the place. He knew he looked worse for wear and probably smelled no better, but it wasn't long before he'd explained his situation to the legendary Forrest Bondurant himself.

He'd told him he didn't have money to pay for parts, but if an arrangement could be reached, he'd work off his debt. He looked at the man's boots as he told him he had to save all he could for the birth of the little one that was due soon. And just like that there was a change in the man.

Forrest nodded out to a beautiful woman behind the counter, who had been eagerly listening to the two of them, and without another word said he was sitting at the counter with a fresh cup of coffee, and the finest meal he'd ever eaten while the skinny blonde boy was under his car patching everything up.

She had been sweeter than anything as she waited on him hand and foot, and they talked about his wife and soon-to-be child. He learned that she was Forrest's wife, and while they didn't have children themselves, between his brothers there was a farmhouse full. He never did ask her why, at the time he was too content to stuff his face with biscuits and fried pork chop; but the sadness in her blue eyes told him they weren't childless from choice.

She packed him up a heaping basket full of jams and jellies, and two loaves of home baked bread, and another two plates of dinner with a promise that his wife would eat her fill before he had thirds. He smiled when he saw that the instructions were said more as a playful joke to her husband who was sitting a table over mulling over ledgers with a small grin on his face.

He went to sleep that night with a full belly for the first time in as many years as he could remember.

He stared down at the little bundle in his arms that was quietly sleeping, and he knew what he had to do. He knew Forrest Bondurant and his beautiful wife would give it the life he never could have.

* * *

Bridget shifted in her sleep, before her blue eyes fluttered open at the strange sensation of something tickling her thigh. It took her a moment to come into her senses in the dark room, but before she could finally put the pieces together, she felt a shift of the soft mattress, her thin, cotton nightdress being lifted up, and then the unmistakable heat of breath as it fanned the now exposed feminine core.

She woke instantly when she felt the silken touch of a tongue, and then the luxurious suckle of her husband's lush, full lips against her most private flesh. Her back arched as he began a slow, but deliberate taste of every part of her, savoring it like a feast; covering it with licks, suckles and even gentle nibbles.

"Oh, _Forrest_," She sighed out in pleasure as she splayed her legs wider, rolling her hips into his mouth. "Honey, what's gotten into you?"

He chuckled lowly, and the vibration of his mouth against her flesh was enough to charge up the already stiffening bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex, the little pearl wide awake despite the absurdness of the hour.

"I'm a hungry man," He answered in a raspy tone, deep and rich with lust, "Can't get my fill when it comes to you. I always want more."

Bridget had to bite down on her lower lip to silence the loud moan that was torn from her mouth when he latched on to the hooded nub of flesh and sucked at it eagerly. Her heart was pounding and her body was awash in arousal and passion, her thighs trembling as he began to let his tongue wander inside her to taste her more deeply. It was only another moment before her insides, coiled tight with wanting and need, finally let go- sending her barreling into an all-consuming climax that had her crying out as quietly as she could manage while her body pulsed with her passion.

Forrest continued to kiss and taste her until her aftershocks subsided, before he slowly lifted his impressive bulk and crawled up her body, settling between her thighs and sliding his hardness into the perfect heat with one strong thrust. Her back arched again at the wonderful feeling of fullness, and she rocked into him as he began to roll his hips in a constant surge. A stream of low grunts and growls spilled from his beautiful mouth as he lowered his face to nuzzle into her shoulder.

Her hands were splayed out against the muscular plane of his broad shoulders, and she clutched on to him desperately as his pace began to increase, taking her with such eagerness and ardor that the wooden bed began to creak in rhythm with his moves. Bridget felt her inner walls clenching tight around his cock that suddenly felt as hard and smooth as marble, and then she was there again, her core pulsing in time with her heart as he groaned loudly against her neck, the warmth of his seed shooting out into the deepest part of her.

Forrest trembled in her arms and she stroked the warm skin of his neck in a soothing play of her fingers, letting him gently rest his weight on her body as he caught his breath. They didn't need to speak the "I love you's" that they both felt. Her eyes looked out to the window near their bed to see that it was still before dawn, the sky still mostly black with night and stars as only a small sliver of the hint of day teased at the bottom of the trees.

"You want to get up and have breakfast, honey?" Bridget asked absently as she ran her fingers through his short hair.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat as he kissed her neck gently, "Just somethin' quick, I gotta get to the station early today with Patrick and finish fixin' that damn pump that keeps breakin' down. I want to do it while it's still cool in the air."

She nodded and he slowly rose to his feet, reluctantly sliding out of her intimate embrace and stretching in the cool morning air without a thought to the fact that he was in the middle of their room as naked as the day he was born. She would have been lying if she said she didn't still appreciate the sight of him. After nearly ten years of being man and wife she still couldn't get enough of the gruff, stubborn, quirky and endlessly sweet man in front of her.

His love was everything she'd ever wanted, and even though there was only one thing she still couldn't have, she still went to bed at night and thanked the Lord for everything he'd seen fit to give her after a lifetime of loneliness.

Forrest dressed quickly in a simple pair of trousers, suspenders and sneaking on a threadbare long-shirt under his vest, because he still refused to wear undershorts unless he had no other choice. And lastly he put on his light brown cardigan, the wool fabric worn soft from washing and constant wear before he grabbed his old hat.

Bridget was just as fast getting dressed, putting on her undergarments, and quickly clipping her nylons to her garter before donning a simple blue day dress and her nude flats. She threw on a plain white cardigan as she quickly braided her long, curly hair and twisted it up into a bun. Despite the fashion for shorter hair Forrest had asked her not to cut it, and even though there were small strands of white that had occasionally woven into the auburn color, it still looked beautiful.

They walked out of their bedroom and down the hall. The house was still quiet this early, with the only stirring coming from both Howard and Jack who were slowly but surely managing to wake up to head down to the barn. But it would still be a half hour at least before they managed to make it down to the kitchen. They passed the girl's room, where Howard and Linnie's four little angels, Charlotte, Lydia, Emma and Alice were still fast asleep, and lastly Bridget opened the door of the boy's room where Jack and Katie's little ones Jack Jr. and James shared space with Patrick.

It was starting to get a little cramped for the sixteen-year-old, especially with the newest arrival Daniel in December. Right now the three-month-old slept next to Katie and Jack's bed, but in a couple of years it would be time for him to move into the room. It had also opened discussion between Patrick and Forrest of him moving out to the station full time when he turned seventeen. Bridget had insisted that eighteen was a more appropriate age, but it had been overruled when he'd pointed out that both her and Forrest were on their own at that age and done just fine. And he was moving down the street not to another county.

She soundlessly crept in and looked at the tall, thin boy who was a dead ringer for both her late sister Mary and her husband James. But she had to stifle a giggle as he was sleeping with his face mashed in the pillow and his behind up in the air, the same way that Katie had always slept. She fought the urge to give him a good swat and instead poked his shoulder until his face turned and a sleepy blue eye stared at her.

"Time to get up, baby," She whispered. "Forrest wants to leave in a little bit."

Patrick nodded and stretched his long limbs like a cat before he sat up, his platinum blonde hair sticking up every which way as he threw on trousers and a shirt and followed her out of the room down to the kitchen.

* * *

Breakfast was a simple affair of eggs, ham steaks, potato hash and toast. But somehow even when she wasn't doing something special in the least, Forrest still marveled at the way that he'd eat anything that she put in front of him like it was at a fancy restaurant in the big city. Not to mention that he didn't drink coffee that she didn't make.

After three heaping plates and an authoritative stab of the last piece of ham to wrestle it away from Patrick, because the damn boy would eat for a month if he was left up to his own devices, they were both dressed and ready to go. He kissed his wife goodbye with a deep, slow kiss, uncaring of the boy who walked off at the sight of their affection.

It didn't much matter who saw him anymore, though there was a time in his life that he didn't want anyone see him so much as smile. But he loved her with every fiber in his being, and as the years passed, and his need to be a hardass bootlegger was long gone, his temperament softened and with it his walls- well, somewhat. The iron knuckles that still sat heavy in his pocket were enough of a reminder that he might be and old dog, but his bite was still there.

They climbed into the green 1930 Model A pickup that Patrick had pieced back together himself after Forrest's beloved truck had finally sputtered it's last breath a few years back, and headed down the road towards the station.

* * *

It was a pleasant morning for late March, and Forrest puffed his cigar, the cloud of smoke flowing out of the window, his grey eyes catching sight of Patrick pulling a hand rolled cigarette from a tin on the dashboard and lighting it up. He looked over at the lanky young man and for a moment recalled the tiny, hungry, wet boy he'd met all those years ago who didn't speak a word. In fact he'd been one of the only people he'd ever known in his life that was content to work or sit next to him and not make a sound. Even Bridget was always humming a hymn with a soft sound that he didn't mind- but Patrick he liked to be still, and it was something that Forrest had often wondered was always in his character, or it was something that he'd picked up from being around him. Because he'd raised him as his own son.

A smirk curled his lip as he puffed around the cigar, "She's gonna tan your hide if she catches you smokin'."

He laughed and nodded, "Yeah, she will, which is why I'm smart enough to keep it to myself."

Forrest grunted in amused agreement and the two men went silent again.

* * *

The sun was just coming up when they pulled up to the empty station, and Patrick turned off the rumbling engine before they both froze at a noise that sounded completely out of place for the quiet of the Virginia woods. Forrest reached into the belt of his pants to grab the revolver that was still never far while Patrick reached behind the seat for his rifle.

But when he stepped out of the truck, the noise started to become hauntingly familiar. Something that he'd had fill his ears for the past eight years under the roof of the farm house- it was a baby crying.

And it was crying like nothing else, a pitiful wail that only meant one thing- it was looking for a meal.

Patrick scratched his head, lowering his rife until they both caught sight of a tiny wooden basket hidden near the door that he recognized as one that Bridget had made to pack away jams and preserves that her and the women had canned last fall. Forrest tucked his gun away and cautiously walked up to it, seeing a mound of worn blankets inside the box, and then a little pale hand struggled free and waived in the morning air.

He crouched down to move the old cotton cloth, worn threadbare from washing, to see a little bit of a thing staring up at him with a red face and bright green eyes. Now, he was never a man that dealt well with noise, and he certainly wasn't one who dealt well with the fuss of either Howard or Jack's herds. In fact in his life he couldn't recall a time when he'd ever held a baby for more than a passing moment, so he couldn't explain why he moved the cover of the blanket to see a scrap of paper tucked in with the infant that simply said: "For'st Bondrnt" written on it in barely legible letters.

He paused for a beat, wondering if it might be diseased, but when it added a god awful ferocity into its cries, it was instinct that had him reaching in to take out the babe and hold it close to his chest. It was only a little bit of a thing with a dusting of brown hair on its head and it was wearing nothing more than a cotton sack. He could tell it hadn't been washed, or fed in a day or so, and if his nose wasn't lying, it needed a change too.

"Someone just left a baby here?" Patrick's puzzled question came from beside him as he stared at the scrap of paper.

"Seems that way," Forrest answered taking the paper and tucking it into his cardigan with a free hand. "It's hungry and wet though, so unlock the door already."

He jumped up and did as he was told, pulling a key from his pocket and walking inside to flip on the lights. "Should I call Aunt Bridget?"

Forrest tried to think straight as the baby was now screaming its racket right into his ears, and he wondered if maybe leaving it be in the basket would have been a better idea after all. He finally nodded, "Go ahead and call her, but don't get her all upset, you hear?"

Patrick made a face, ""Course not."

"We're gonna need clothes, diapers and a bottle." He nodded as he picked up the phone in the corner and started to call the house.

Forrest walked behind the counter to the refrigerator to grab some milk and a small cup, and after a little juggling he'd managed to pour a little into the glass. He carried it out to one of the tables and sat down unsure of just how this should be done. He knew a baby this size should still be drinking from its Momma, but one of Howard's girls, Emma, had needed some cow's milk and evaporated milk when she was an infant because Linnie's milk had gone dry.

The fact that he was even remembering that now was enough to make him grumble and shake his head. But he tried to warm the cold liquid in his hand as best he could before he lifted the glass to her lips and tried to figure out a way to get it in without choking it. Finally he just settled on dipping his finger in and getting a few drops to suckle.

It seemed to work, though he could tell he wasn't the only one that was frustrated; the little thing was latched onto his finger every time and pulling it with its lips and gums. But it must have been so damn hungry that even this little taste of food was enough to keep it busy.

Thankfully it wasn't fifteen minutes later when Bridget came running through the door of the station with her arms completely loaded with baby blankets and a basket of evaporated milk and a bottle. Forrest looked up to see his wife's blue eyes widen and fill with tears and her hands tremble as she placed the basket on the table and crouch down beside him.

"Oh, Forrest, the poor thing is starved," Her voice was shaking, but true to who she was, she shelved her own emotions. "Let me get a bottle of evaporated milk for..." She stopped curiously and turned to him, "Is it a boy or a girl?"

He shrugged at the simple question, "Don't know."

She waved her hand as she made the bottle, "That's a foolish question, never mind."

Forrest watched her as she sat in a chair next to him and he automatically handed her the small bundle, unable to stop staring as she tucked it expertly into her chest and brought the rubber nipple up to the baby's mouth to see it latch on and start to drink with such force that it soon sounded more like a snorting piglet than an infant.

She looked down at the baby in her arms with a small, sweet smile on her face, and Forrest felt as if something deep in his chest unlatched. It was a strange feeling that he'd felt that day in the hospital when she became his wife, a sense of unearthly wholeness that he could never find the words to describe. He saw her as if he was in a dream, holding the child they were never allowed to have, the one that had been stolen from them by a worthless man and a cold, unforgiving bullet on this very floor.

And when she blinked up at him with her beautiful blue eyes filled with tears he knew she was feeling the same thing. But there was something sad right behind it. "We need to call Sheriff Potts and Doctor Mills, Forrest. We need to make sure it's okay, and there has to be parents, or someone."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper, "This was on it, in the basket. I think someone meant to leave it here, maybe, they couldn't care for it. Maybe they knew we want...uh, could, take care of one."

"Honey, I want that to be true, but we need to call them, it's the right thing." She went quiet and stared at the baby as she pulled the bottle away to gently burp it, rubbing it's back in soothing circles.

Bridget was lost in thought when she looked at Forrest, "Do you think we would have had them by now?"

His mouth pulled into a wry grin, "We'd have a fuckin' pack the way I can't stay away from you."

"Language in front of the little one, Forrest," She scolded as she gave it the bottle for a little more. "But maybe, if the Sheriff will let us look after it, he'd know we'd give it a good home, a good family...and a name."

It was hopeless, Bridget could feel her heart breaking by the second. This precious little thing left by the grace of God on her doorstep- had he answered her prayers? Just like she had been scared and hungry when she first came to Blackwater all those years ago to find love and family...was the same thing supposed to happen to this poor thing?

Forrest nodded as he stood up, "I'll call for the Doctor and the Sheriff, why don't you go upstairs at give it a bath and I'll be right up."

* * *

Bridget smiled down at the dirty little thing as she gently washed the baby in one of the biggest kitchen bowls that she had inside the tub, using the just warm water to scrub away the dirt from its body...no, no longer an "it"- a _she_.

She was a beautiful baby girl with big green eyes and tuft of brown hair. Bridget made sure she was perfect before she rinsed her body and lifted her out of the tub to wrap her up in a soft towel to dry.

The baby shivered and Bridget held her close, humming words to the same songs she'd sung to Katie and Patrick when they were small. She walked into the old room that her and Forrest had first shared when they were married and dressed her in a clean diaper and pulled on a long white little outfit that would serve to keep her warm before she wrapped her in one of Katie's many baby blankets.

Her green eyes looked up and for the first time locked right onto hers. She made an oddly nervous face before Bridget spoke softly. "I know, my sweet, sweet little one, you have already been through so much haven't you? But you are here now, and I promise to keep you warm and safe."

As if understanding her, the baby yawned and it's eyes went heavy. She wanted to let her nap, but she heard the sound of cars pulling into the driveway and she knew that they were just going to have to wait just a little longer for that. Her heart fluttered nervously in her chest as she walked down to the main floor of the station.

* * *

"Well," Doctor Mills said as he adjusted his glasses and wrapped the baby back up in the blanket. "She looks just fine, healthy two or three month old baby, aside from the fact that she needs a good meal and some sleep. But I don't imagine her to find much trouble finding that with that with you folks. I've never seen her before though, so if she's from Franklin County, she wasn't born at the hospital."

"Thank you," Bridget said as she automatically picked her up as she started to fuss, rocking her gently in her arms as Sheriff Potts stood in front of Forrest as on edge as always.

"Now, I'm supposed to take her to the county home," He explained nervously. "Just in case the parents come lookin' for her. But then again, with this note attached for evidence, I don't think we'll have any parents come by."

Forrest rolled a toothpick around his mouth with a slow roll before he spoke, "Yeah, well, you ain't gonna do that, 'cause we're gonna take her. So you can file the papers with the judge for that and deliver them to me when they are done."

"Well, alright, Forrest, I can bring them, but she's gonna need a name before I can start." He stuttered out nervously.

Bridget's whole body went numb as her husband stared at her with nothing but questioning love in his eyes. Her mind raced, but there really only was one name she wanted, after her late sister. "Mary Anne," She said quietly, "Is that alright?"

He nodded as Sheriff Potts jotted it down and tipped his hat, "Alright, now, I'll be on my way. Good day Ma'am, Forrest, I'll have those papers in a few days."

He walked out of the station a moment later, and Forrest walked over to see his wife and the little bundle in her arms that was now wide-eyed thanks to its earlier meal and staring at the both of them intently. It was a strange and yet, so natural compulsion for him to bring one of his large fingers up and to let the baby's little hand wind around the digit and grab hold for a moment.

"I think Mary Anne is a fine name," He said quietly, "A good name for a Bondurant."

Bridget smiled sadly, "It was Patrick's mother's name." She paused and took a deep breath, "Forrest, I don't know if I can do this, I can't hope like this and have her taken away from us."

"No one's takin' this baby from us," He said in that same soft and stern tone that she'd once feared. "Someone left her here for us, someone meant us to find her, and that means it's us that's gonna raise her. You and me, she deserves a Momma as good as you."

She nodded as she leaned over to take his mouth in a sweet kiss, "You are a wonderful father, Forrest."

His full lips pulled into a grin when the sudden noise of clanking tools falling out of a box on the outside stairs filled the room, immediately followed by a string of very creative cursing in Patrick's voice. "Well, he didn't turn out all that bad, all things considering, better than Jack anyhow…figure the third one should be perfect."

* * *

Bridget and Forrest drove back home with their little bundle early in the afternoon, leaving Patrick to finish up at the station. They no sooner pulled up at the house then all six giggling kids came rushing out to meet their newest cousin as Linnie and Katie stood in the doorway.

The little blonde was holding her own baby boy and tears ran down her face as she looked at her sister's palatable joy. "Oh, Bridget, it's a miracle." She sniffed.

"She's just beautiful," Linnie said quietly. "We already set the cradle up near your bed so it's all ready to go for her nap."

"Thank you both." Bridget said as she looked at Katie, "But what about Daniel, doesn't he still need it?"

Her tiny sister hefted up the large baby in her arms that was somehow already almost a third her size. "This fat little man is already getting too big for that, he just about rolled out of it this morning, I'm gonna use the small bedside crib, 'till he grows out of _that_ in a week."

Bridget laughed and felt Forrest's hand resting up on her shoulder, smiling at the fact that this man was going to watch over this little girl like a hawk for the rest of her life.

They both walked up to their bedroom and Mary Anne was already fast asleep in her arms. She slowly lowered her down into the cradle, and she stirred for only a moment before she gently rocked her back to sleep. It was a long while before either of them moved, both of them so content to just see her sleep a sweet, satisfied slumber, safe and warm with a full belly.

"I don't want to leave her, Forrest." She whispered as she stared at her. "I'm afraid she'll disappear and we'll find that this is all a dream."

"We don't have to, we can lie down for a while," He voice was low in her ear, and Bridget turned to look at her husband when he gently grabbed her hips and pulled her back against his strong body and the hardness that was straining for her again.

"Mr. Bondurant, there is a baby in our room now, and it's not natural…"

Forrest chuckled as he ground against her with a roll of his hips, "Well, Mrs. Bondurant, I happen to know down on the farm that it's perfectly natural for a stallion to find a mare and mount her no matter who is near, so I don't see why we need to be any different."

"Is that right? What would Ms. Mary Lou Burkett have said to you for thinkin' like that?" She laughed, fondly remembering the outspoken woman who passed away a couple of years before.

"Old Mary Lou would have _told_ me that," He answered playfully rutting against her again. "Now, we've been talkin' too long about this honey, and I don't want baby Mary waking up and seein' her Momma and Daddy like that, so hush and get on that bed, woman."

* * *

_One month later…_

A soft but strong cry roused him out of his slumber and Forrest sat up to see Bridget already sitting up to attend to Mary on the side of their bed, ready for her mid-night feeding. He gently touched her shoulder and held her back, "I got this one; you go ahead and rest."

"Are you sure?" She asked, leaning over to kiss his mouth sweetly.

"Yeah, I'll go sit downstairs for a little while and rock her," He answered as he stood up, throwing on a long shirt and a pair of his trousers and his socks.

Forrest lifted the crying girl out of her cradle and walked down to the main part of the house where the woodstove was letting off just enough heat to ward off the April chill. He heated up a pot of water on the stove and warmed one of the glass bottles in the refrigerator bringing it up to temperature.

He had to smile despite himself, if the ATU and good ol' Charley Rakes could see him now, a feared bootlegger testing the temperature from a rubber nipple. But as he settled in his rocking chair by the stove, he could feel anything but deep content. He had everything he never knew he'd want. The love of a woman, good as his own Momma was to his Father, children to look after and teach what he knew about the world, and his brothers close by, safe and happy too.

And now his daughter was really his. Sheriff Potts had delivered the finalized adoption papers just last week, and little Mary Anne Bondurant wasn't going anywhere.

"Didn't think I'd ever see this day," Howard's voice said from over his shoulder as he sat down into the rocking chair to his left, "You, feedin' a little one."

"Yeah," Forrest drawled as he rocked slowly, looking at his older brother and seeing a strong, capable man. It was almost impossible to recall the lost, hurt and angry soul who spent his time drowning his fears and his memories in moonshine. "'Bout as likely as your ass havin' a little tea party with four girls wearin' a pink bonnet, I imagine."

"I don't know, I'm pretty sure he owned that pink bonnet for a long while," Jack smirked as he sat down on the other side of Forrest. He'd filled into his height finally, his frame tall and built like Howard's, but there was still the impish glow behind his hazel eyes that probably would never go away no matter how grown he was supposed to be.

Howard snorted and looked at his younger brother, "Says the guy who works for his tiny wife."

Jack shook his head, "Aww, fuck you Howard, your ass works for her too."

"Watch your language in front of my baby girl, you hear?" Forrest said lowly. "Ain't gonna have her sweet ears hearin' that from the likes of you two."

The three of them chuckled softly and Howard stared off into space for a moment before his pale green eyes went serious. "You know there's gonna come a time when they'll be old enough for courtin', our daughters I mean."

Jack grinned, "That's why I'm glad my baby gave me sons. I'll be sittin' back and relaxin' watchin' you two pace the door waitin' for them to come home."

"Yeah, well, see, there's where you're mistakin' Jack." Forrest said with a grunt. "You're assuming a dumb son-of-a-bitch would manage to make it to the door in the first place. We've had this conversation before little brother, we control the fear, ain't nothin' ever gonna change about that."

"Point made, Forrest," Jack said with a nod. "Then again, your daughter ends up anythin' like Bridget; she'll probably already have a shotgun waitin'."

"That's right."

The three Bondurant brothers shared a small laugh in the quiet of the Virginia night before they got up and walked back upstairs to their wives. Legend may have called them indestructible, but they knew better, no one got out of this life alive, and they would be no different. Their times would come, and each of them would go, one by one, but they would leave a legacy behind in their children, and their children's children, and in that way, perhaps, they were truly immortal.

* * *

**So, what do we think…new story?**


End file.
